


Folie à Deux

by Elsewhere (ElsewhereCW)



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElsewhereCW/pseuds/Elsewhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the time since the quest with Crono has ended, Magus has taken to searching for his lost sister. For some reason, Glenn has been following along, and Magus is curious to know why…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folie à Deux

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Momoko (xelloss_poo), for the badcliche ficathon on livejournal.
> 
> Momoko asked for:  
> Cliche 1: Having sex somewhere in public and NOT getting caught.  
> Cliche 2: First time having sex is great!  
> Cliche 3: Mortal enemies become lovers.
> 
> I’ve tried to put all of them into this one story. ^^ Not sure how good of a job I did…
> 
> Other than tiny typographical corrections, this story was last updated on July 29th, 2005.

*****

The sun had barely slid over the horizon when a soft cracking sound reverberated through the campsite. Magus cracked open an eye, glancing around before, grumbling under his breath, he sat up.

“Why are you always up so early?” His voice, as usual, held more than a little irritation.

“I have always been early to rise,” came the response, softly spoken and sounding distracted. Magus got to his feet and wandered the few feet to the fire pit they had made the night before, where his traveling companion already knelt, striking flint over wood.

“Late to bed and yet early to rise,” Magus muttered. “Your constitution remains inhuman, Glenn.”

“Old habits,” Glenn murmured, still working furiously at the stone in his hands.

With an annoyed sigh, Magus reached out to stay Glenn’s hands. Within seconds, and with only the slightest wave of his hand, Magus had set the roughage in the pit to smoldering.

“Ah, my thanks,” Glenn said with a nod of gratitude as he set to work making a working spit.

“I must reach the town proper by tonight,” Magus said, gritting his teeth. “I cannot abide the taste of rabbit any longer.”

“Every morning thou hast the same complaint,” Glenn said in a tone of chiding. “If thou wouldst prefer another meat, thou couldst hunt it thyself.”

“I never asked you to hunt on my behalf,” Magus said, a bit sourly.

“Aye, but thou dost eat the fruits of my labor, and so thou shouldst remain silent,” Glenn said with a brief smile, which became a laugh as Magus rolled his eyes.

“But thou art right…we should reach Cindel by this e’en, perhaps earlier,” Glenn commented, his eyes remaining on his task.

Magus grunted noncommittally as he got to his feet.

“Inform me when it’s ready.” The order came easy to his lips; after all this time, he too often fell back into old habits.

“Aye, master,” Glenn said, sounding amused.

“Very funny,” Magus said dully, and as he turned away, he made a decision to ignore Glenn for the rest of the morning. While Glenn continued to cook his morning’s catch, Magus went about the menial tasks of tidying up their campsite. These tasks were few; the two of them tended to leave little sign of their presence on the land they left behind.

After a brief, silent breakfast, Magus started on his way, cloak wrapped around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill of autumn. As usual, Glenn followed at some distance, never far enough that Magus wasn’t keenly aware of his presence, but also never close enough to annoy the mage. Dry, brilliant orange leaves cracked beneath their boots as they walked, the forest otherwise still and silent around them.

This had all become routine. Over the three months that they had traveled thus far, the monotony of their task had come to be accepted by the two men. And as with every other day so far, by the time late afternoon fell over the landscape, the light beginning its slow wane towards sunset, Glenn gradually fell into step with Magus. Despite the fact that every day since summer had been exactly the same, it always seemed to take until the afternoon for the two of them to become comfortable enough in one another’s presence to speak freely. Or at least, it took that long for Magus to find the urge to speak. For all that he could see, Glenn was never uncomfortable, no matter what he was doing or who he was with.

“Why are you following me?”

This too had become ritual. Every day, at around the same time, Magus would ask this question. The answer was always a bit different, and always similarly evasive. “It is a good time of year to travel.” “I have always wanted to visit this part of the continent.” “I was simply taken by the urge.” “Why, should I not?”

Every now and then, Glenn would say something that struck Magus as likely to be closer to the truth. “I am concerned for the welfare of Lady Schala.” “There is aught that I would rather do.” “Like thee, I seek answers.”

Magus had noticed that these times---the times when Glenn seemed as cavalier as always and yet somehow more willing to approach the truth of the matter---always came just before they reached a town…just before they came to the place they were seeking, following after the latest clue.

Today, Glenn was silent for several minutes in contemplation. Magus fancied that he was trying to decide what to reveal, and how much. When they had first met, over a decade before, Glenn had been an earnest young boy, hardly capable of telling anything but the absolute truth. In the years since, Glenn had become reticent; the price of living for years in silence and solitude. As it stood now, the two of them made ideal traveling companions, each of them as protective of their own mystery as the other.

“Simple curiosity,” Glenn said finally, and at first, Magus bunched his eyebrows in irritation as he glanced back at the younger man. When he saw Glenn’s slight grin and the way he shrugged his shoulders, Magus reconsidered, turning back to face ahead as he realized that this answer was perhaps the closest to the truth he’d had yet.

He looked back, mouth open to ask another question, only to find Glenn standing still, the pink tip of his tongue protruding slightly from between his lips. A moment passed, and he closed his mouth.

“There is a town just ahead,” Glenn remarked, nodding forward with his chin.

“Ah, good. That must be Cindel,” Magus said, as always taking Glenn’s brief return of amphibious behavior in stride. After all, he was the cause for Glenn’s sometimes-inhuman actions. “I was beginning to feel hungry.”

They were silent as they continued onwards, Magus having decided that his questions could wait until later. Perhaps the next town, for he knew as well as he could by now that, despite all of their efforts, visiting Cindel would bring them no closer to their goal than any of their other stops had. They were on a fool’s errand, a wild goose chase, and they both knew it full well. But to stop would have meant acknowledging defeat. Magus knew that he might have done just that long before now if it hadn’t been for the constant presence of his former enemy, observing him in a thoughtful silence. Before this man, he would never admit weakness, even if it meant he would continue to trek across the land until the day he died.

They reached the town on the very cusp of dusk, their strides slowed due to the weariness of a long day’s travel. As usual, when they entered the town Magus disappeared beneath the hood of his cloak. His appearance would have upset the locals; his pointed ears were an obvious indicator of his Mystic nature, and the Mystics were still widely feared, despite the fact that word had spread far and wide that the infamous leader of the Mystics had vanished, taking his war along with him.

Magus was eager to get his business over in good time, so he left Glenn to find them lodgings for the night as he wandered the town, speaking to street vendors and stopping into pubs to ask if they had seen a Mystic girl who had been said to be traveling in the area. His cover story was one that was not only believable to the inhabitants of these small, inland towns, but also considered admirable. He claimed to be a bounty hunter, seeking out a Mystic sought by his majesty King Guardia for war crimes. As always, he also made sure that it was understood that the girl might be in disguise. The townsfolk were, as usual, only too eager to help him in such a just cause, but unfortunately, none of them had heard of any such individual in the area. In fact, there had been no suspicious activity at all, and only the usual amount of travelers passing through.

Magus thanked each individual for their trouble. When he had begun this journey, the negative answers he received time and again had caused him grief. Now, instead of each discouraging word causing his stomach to sink in disappointment, he felt nothing more than hunger as he continued on his rounds.

Dark had fallen over the town, the warm light of torches and lanterns instead lighting his steps, by the time he had spoken to every person in the town he considered potentially useful. By this time he was ravenous, and his steps were quick as he made his way back towards the entrance of town, where he knew Glenn would be waiting to guide him to a hot meal and a waiting bed.

“Any luck?” Glenn always asked, his eyebrows always raised as he awaited an answer.

“None,” Magus said simply, and as Glenn nodded, Magus shrugged. “We will try the wise woman in the morning.”

The information that had brought them this far, and continued to drive them on their way, generally came from the ever-present outcasts they met along the way. Witches, heretics and hermits living on the outskirts of the various towns always seemed to have a better grasp on the goings-on around them, and they were far more likely to have met a Mystic. Occasional tips and whispered words from these unsavory individuals had driven their quest onwards, ever in search of the elusive Zealian princess.

The initial hint that had begun Magus’ long journey had come from King Guardia’s court, where a local eccentric had told him briefly of a wandering Mystic who sounded eerily like Magus’ long-lost sister. Despite knowing that there was no real reason to even believe that Schala would be in this time period, at this point Magus knew of little else to occupy his time than to search for her. By this time in his life, he’d come to believe that he would likely never find her, even were he to search a hundred years or more and in every timescape available to him through his association with young Crono. But, deprived of his life with the Mystics and finished with his quest with Crono and the others, Magus literally had nothing better to do with his life. The revenge he had sought had been won, and in truth, he had never given much thought to what he would do with himself after Lavos was dead.

These were the thoughts that occupied Magus’ mind, as they had so many other evenings, as he sat slumped in his chair, finished his supper and now giving himself time to ponder. He often wondered what the point, or even the purpose, of his journey was. Schala was lost to him; as painful as that realization had been at first, it had become more and more obvious with the passage of time. His quest was a fruitless one, doomed from the beginning. Each time he thought of it, the answer was the same: he had nothing else to do. Such thoughts tended to lead to brooding about what the point or purpose of his continued existence was in the first place, and so he always found it useful to turn his thoughts instead to the man sitting across from him.

Glenn was quiet and polite as ever, his plate pushed to one side and his attention now occupied by a book. Magus watched Glenn’s fingers, long and lithe as their owner, as Glenn turned the page.

“If thou hast a question, then do ask it. I will answer as best I can,” Glenn murmured, without looking up from his reading.

“I find that doubtful, somehow,” Magus said, leaning back a little further in his chair. “I was merely reading the title of your book.”

“I see,” Glenn said, but Magus could tell by the slight twinkle in Glenn’s eyes when their gazes met over the cover of the book that Glenn didn’t believe Magus for a moment.

Magus was about to say more when he was cut off again, this time by the sound of dishes and cutlery clattering as the innkeeper appeared to clear off their table.

“Will you folks be joining us at the fair?” the pudgy little man asked as he ran a wet cloth over the coarse wood of the table, forcing Magus to momentarily move his feet from where they’d been resting on the table’s edge.

“Fair?” he repeated, and he glanced over when he saw Glenn close his book.

“Aye, it seems that this town’s harvest festival begins tonight. Be that not so, innkeeper?”

“Indeed, sir, indeed,” the man agreed, beaming kindly at Glenn. “All the town will be there. I highly recommend it. Good wine, good music…good women!”

“Mm, an offer too tempting to refuse, surely,” Glenn remarked, smirking a bit as he turned to lift an eyebrow at Magus.

“I’ve no interest in wine, music _or_ women,” Magus said evenly, narrowing his eyes at Glenn and watching as the younger man dissolved into chuckles.

“I know,” Glenn said with a grin, “but come, nonetheless.”

Magus grumbled but did as he was asked, once again for lack of anything better to do. He remained hooded as he followed Glenn out of the inn and through the winding streets of the town, into the town square. The noise and smells that greeted them there were an assault to Magus’ Mystic senses, and his first reaction was to balk and reconsider, but just as he was about to turn away, he felt the long unfamiliar, warm grip of a human hand about his elbow.

“It would do thee good to at least play at being sociable, mage,” Glenn said, still grinning.

Magus stood still, stunned by the odd feeling of being touched even so casually, and watched as Glenn disappeared briefly into the crowd, reappearing a moment later with two pints of ale clutched in his hands.

“Take it,” Glenn said, shoving the cup into Magus’ unwilling hands. “Eat, drink and be merry, for once in thy godforsaken life.”

Magus remained silent, not even having the presence of mind to grumble as he usually would have, and stayed where he was, standing on the outskirts of the gathering. He watched as Glenn again immersed himself in the action, soon gathering a crowd of local girls around him as he joined in with the fun, dancing and laughing.

As Magus watched him, cautiously sipping at his drink, he gradually noticed an odd feeling pooling in his stomach, making him uneasy. At first he dismissed it as some sort of stupid, instinctual ‘jealousy’, for lack of a better term, at watching the ease with which Glenn interacted with his fellow humans. But as he continued to watch, and the nagging feeling continued to bother him, it occurred to him that his discomfort was precisely because he could plainly see how well Glenn blended in with others of his kind.

The realization startled him. He had been with Glenn for long enough, it seemed, that he had grown used to the younger man’s company. In a twisted way, he had come to enjoy it, to count on it…that knowledge that someone was always beside him, there to talk to and fight beside. Yet, this situation showed that, even aside from all of the bitterness and hatred in their past, there were basic reasons why it was unnatural for Magus and Glenn to walk beside one another. Magus was a creature of the night, so long used to his solitude that he was incapable of coexisting with human beings. But Glenn was vibrantly human, alive and healthy and able to charm the hearts of all of those he met.

By the time he had thought on all of this nonsense long enough to have drained his flagon, he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. All of these years of very deliberately holding himself separate from humankind, and it seemed that a few short years spent in human company had made him soft once again. There was no reason why it should bother him to be reminded that he was unsuitable for human company. It discomfited him to realize that it did.

Realizing that he had a headache to go along with his self-directed irritation, he got rid of the empty glass and started to make his way away from the noise and bustle of the festival, towards the outskirts of town. He had just barely made his way into the woods surrounding the town, taking a seat on an ancient stump, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The haze of the bonfire in the center of town reached even this far, and it provided plenty of light for his Mystic eyes to see clearly the outline of the man who had once been his mortal enemy.

“Why didst thou leave?” Glenn was a bit breathless, and Magus narrowed his eyes as he looked at the bottle clutched in Glenn’s hand.

“Are you drunk?” Magus asked, evading the question.

“Not in the least,” Glenn said, sounding affronted. Magus watched as Glenn came closer, stumbling slightly as he walked. “Well…fine, then. Perhaps I am a tad drunk…”

Magus made a sound of disgust, which Glenn laughed at as he dropped to sit next to Magus, far closer than Magus was comfortable with. But the stump was only so wide; there was nowhere to move without sitting on the cold ground.

“Why didst thou leave?” Glenn repeated, silently offering up his wine bottle, which Magus refused curtly.

“I do not like crowds of humans,” he said disdainfully, his eyes focused on the pillar of smoke rising up into the sky from the town center. “The noise was giving me a headache.”

“Ahh…I had forgotten the sensitivity of thine ears,” Glenn said, going silent as he took a quick swig from the bottle.

Magus turned to watch this motion, and as Glenn lowered the bottle to the ground between his feet, a notion occurred to Magus. Glenn was obviously in good spirits, a bit tipsy and relaxed by his antics at the festival. Magus knew that when Glenn was feeling particularly mellow, he was likely to be far more talkative than usual.

“What are you curious about?” he asked, his voice low as he watched Glenn for reaction.

“Curious?” Glenn repeated, raising soft green eyes to meet Magus’.

“I asked why you follow me; why you bother to accompany me on this journey,” Magus said, glancing briefly back towards the town to make sure they were likely to remain undisturbed before he pushed back his hood and smoothed a hand through his hair. “Your answer this time was ‘simple curiosity.’”

“Ah, that,” Glenn said with a slow nod, his face settling into an expression of thoughtfulness. He looked away for a moment, but turned back far too quickly for Magus’ liking, once again fixing his gaze on Magus’. “‘Tis true…I follow thee due to simple curiosity.”

“But what are you curious about? What could you possibly feel curious enough about to follow me on this fool’s errand?” For the first time, Magus spoke that ugly truth out loud, his voice growing rough as he said it.

“I am curious about thee, of course,” Glenn said honestly, and he smiled slightly when Magus blinked. “Though I suppose it must be said that I am also driven by curiosity about myself.”

This time, Magus waited, sure that Glenn would explain in good time.

“No more than two years ago, all I felt for thee was anger, hatred and the burning desire for revenge,” Glenn said, his tone thoughtful as he remained passively looking into Magus’ eyes. It was unnerving, how long Glenn’s pale green eyes could hold his gaze. “And yet now, I feel none of that.”

Magus frowned. He had, of course, noticed Glenn’s concerted lack of attempts to kill him, or otherwise harm him. Glenn’s words didn’t come as a surprise, but they still carried the same weight of absurdity that they would have if Glenn had still been suffering under Magus’ curse.

“How can you possibly say that? We may have traveled together, worked alongside each other; I may have restored your original form; you may have made peace with Cyrus. But none of this changes the fact that I did what I did.”

“Indeed, it does not,” Glenn agreed, finally looking ahead into the town, his eyes glazed over in thought. “Which is why I feel such curiosity, towards thee and towards myself. Why have I come to this…so impossibly close to forgiving thee for thy unforgivable crimes? What is it about thee that makes me wish to forgive?”

Magus was silent, struggling to take in Glenn’s words. This much did come as a surprise; he had never expected the word ‘forgive’ to pass Glenn’s lips, particularly in reference to himself. As Glenn himself said, Magus’ sins were unforgivable, and he neither wanted nor needed forgiveness.

“Perhaps it is I who needs forgiveness---to forgive thee,” Glenn said contemplatively, as though he had read Magus’ thoughts. “I know if I do not, I will never move ahead with my life.”

“What about your revenge?” Magus asked.

“Killing thee would not bring Cyrus back, nor the lost ten years of my life,” Glenn said quietly.

“And what of this journey? What is the sense in you wasting yet more of your life on pursuing me?” Magus asked, his eyes still on Glenn’s profile, watching as the younger man sighed.

“Curiosity, as I told thee,” he said, finally turning back to give Magus another slight smile. “I seek understanding. It drives me, this need to know what it is within thee, or perhaps more within myself, that has changed.”

Magus was silent for several minutes, listening to the distant sounds of the festivities in the town.

“Perhaps we both have changed,” he said finally, quietly.

They sat in a mutual stillness for quite some time, long enough that some of the sounds from the town started to die away. A glance at Glenn showed that the young knight had slowly lost the rosy color to his cheeks, sobering quickly enough that he obviously hadn’t imbibed as much alcohol as Magus had first assumed. His eyes were still on Glenn’s face when Glenn abruptly took in a deep breath, and as Magus watched, he realized that Glenn was trembling.

“‘Tis strange, this sensation of discomfort. What is this feeling, replacing the hatred once felt for a mortal enemy who is now somehow closer to a friend?”

“A friend? You’re drunker than I thought,” Magus said harshly, and he watched as Glenn’s lips twitched.

“A companion, at least,” he amended. “Someone that I have fought beside, slept beside, and walked beside for many a month. No longer mine enemy, but something quite different…and yet I am unsure what.”

“Perhaps you simply think too much,” Magus muttered, only to freeze, stunned, when he felt the touch of Glenn’s knee against his as the younger man knelt in front of him. “What are you…!?”

The words died in his throat, choked off into amazement as Glenn’s fingers gently made their way over Magus’ cheeks.

He caught his breath quickly enough when Glenn lifted himself on his knees and leaned closer, until his pale green eyes seemed larger than they were.

“You _are_ drunker than I thought,” Magus said, from between gritted teeth.

“Nay…I am not drunk,” Glenn said, his voice surprisingly soft. Magus froze, once again going still against Glenn’s touch as his long fingers traced Magus’ cheekbones. “I am, as I have said, curious.”

“You’re insa---” His voice was cut off when Glenn swooped upwards and, without any warning, pressed his lips to Magus’. Once again, Magus was too stunned initially to react. By the time he thought to jerk back, Glenn was already pulling away.

“You stupid amphibian,” Magus growled, a hint of genuine threat coming into his voice as he started to regain his wits. “If you think *this* is the ‘different’ feeling you’ve come to have for me, you can think again, because I can tell you that---”

And again. As before, he hadn’t been expecting it, so he froze against the soft touch of Glenn’s lips. Incredibly soft, and incredibly, hauntingly warm. The ache that pulsed in Magus’ chest came to him as a surprise, and an unwelcome one. His body may have been aware of his need for human contact, brought on by years of solitude, but he was determined not to acknowledge it.

This time, as Glenn drew away, he spoke before Magus could.

“Tell me honestly if thou feelest nothing at the touch of my lips,” Glenn said quietly, his eyes firmly fixed on Magus’. “I can tell thee that I do feel, though what it is I cannot say.”

“I can show you instantly how I feel, if you’re prepared to meet your death,” Magus hissed, his hands now gripping Glenn’s shoulders, prepared to shove him away. He faltered, his fingers loosening, when he felt Glenn’s fingertips brush the back of his gloved hand.

“What is the use in lying?” Glenn murmured. “‘Tis just the two of us here, Magus.”

“And a town full of people,” Magus reminded him, and Glenn grinned.

“They are otherwise occupied,” he said with a shrug, and Magus stared at him in disbelief.

“Do you honestly expect me to---” Again. It was beginning to get irritating to get cut off so often, but what was even more irritating was the fact that he knew Glenn was right. His body was responding despite his best efforts to remain still, and this time, when Glenn leaned up into the kiss, Magus found his resolve slipping. He knew what this meant---he had to get out of this situation, fast. With a cooler head, he would far more easily be able to convince himself that Glenn was simply drunk and playing games. Alone they may have been, but that didn’t make honesty any safer to play at.

His hands again closed around Glenn’s shoulders and this time he shoved, hard. Glenn fell back with a soft thump, glancing up at Magus in surprise as the mage got swiftly to his feet and, without a word, started back towards the town. He had hardly taken three steps before he was almost tackled from behind, Glenn’s body colliding with his with just enough force to knock him to his knees. He reacted instinctually, his arm swinging out to attack, but Glenn was too fast for him, ducking underneath the swing and catching Magus off guard yet again.

Magus found himself flat on his back in seconds, his arms pinned by Glenn’s hands as Glenn, straddling Magus’ lap, bent to claim Magus’ lips again. It came to Magus as a surprise to feel the heat of Glenn’s arousal pressed against his belly, and between this and the way Glenn’s tongue had somehow found entry into Magus’ mouth, Magus felt something within him snap.

Glenn was right. They were alone, for all intents and purposes; there was no one to see either of them shame themselves. But more importantly, there was no more room for shame. Each of them was fully aware of the failings of the other, and beyond that, there really was no need to pretend.

He wasn’t sure exactly when he started to kiss Glenn back, or when he had wrapped his arms around Glenn to pull him closer. He was reacting entirely on instinct now, his mind buried beneath a torrent of the hard, long-forgotten sensation of lust. Luckily for him, Glenn didn’t seem interested in taking the time to reconsider his actions; it seemed like only seconds, the silence around them broken only by their ragged breaths and the distant roar of the festival, before Glenn was naked and pulling impatiently at Magus’ robes.

With Magus’ help, the last of the clothing between them was disposed of, and they were clinging to each other again. Leaves crackled beneath them as they rolled on the ground, their lovemaking not altogether different from the way they might have fought. Each of them was desperate, uncaring and rough. By the time Magus realized that Glenn was inside of him, it was too late to feel irritated by the fact that really, he would have preferred to have the upper hand. Perhaps it had been too late from the beginning; it was obvious that Glenn had a far better idea of where he was going with this than Magus did. With the feeling of Glenn filling him, pounding into him until the knight was obviously straining, gasping where he writhed against the mage’s chest, Magus found he could forget about pride and disgust altogether. He didn’t even notice the fact that it hurt like hell. The pain felt the same as the pleasure, and there was more pleasure than he had been prepared to take. When he came, he did so with a primal shout that echoed through the treetops. By the time he realized he’d done it, it was too late to cast a silencing spell or otherwise prevent the locals from hearing them; right now, Magus really wasn’t in the mood for an interruption.

He started to think clearly a few moments later, his breath coming fast in his chest but hampered slightly by the weight of Glenn, now lying fully against him.

He took a few breaths, enough to regain his voice.

“Move, idiot knight,” he grunted, pushing at Glenn’s shoulder. “We’ll undoubtedly have the whole town upon us in a minute.”

“Through no fault of mine,” Glenn said breathlessly as he slowly backed away, kneeling as Magus struggled to sit up. “If thou hadst been quiet…”

“Shut up,” Magus grumbled, wincing. Now it *definitely* hurt like hell. But strangely, he was glad for it---he was sure that this moment would have been infinitely more awkward had Glenn been sweet and gentle.

“What was that?” Magus asked irritably, glaring at Glenn, who was still struggling to catch his breath even as he looked around for his clothes.

“I know as little as thee,” Glenn said with a shrug, and Magus cursed under his breath, only to look up suddenly when a bundle of cloth hit him square in the chest. “Here, thy clothes.”

They dressed quickly, and had just disappeared back between the nearby houses when they heard voices approaching their previous location.

“That was so stupid I’m speechless,” Magus said, shaking his head over and over as rational thought continued to come back to him, resulting in a pounding stress headache. *Now* what were they going to do!?

“I thought it was rather nice,” Glenn said, scratching his head and grinning sheepishly as Magus glared at him.

A moment passed as they continued their walk back towards the inn, and Magus contemplated the ache between his buttocks.

“…That’s beside the point,” he said finally, in a subdued version of his usual impatient grumble. He continued to glower as Glenn laughed, his merriment ringing out into the night.

*****

THE END


End file.
